


Miniature Disasters

by InfinitelyStupid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: CULLEN YOU WROTE THOSE PATROL SCHEDULES, Cullen blushes like a teenage beauty queen, Cullen is a stress head when Hawke isn't there, Cullen is protective, DA2 fix-it, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluffy, Hawke is purple, Kinda, Lavellan just can't, Mentions of Sebastian Vael - Freeform, Reunions, Secret Relationship, blasphemy out the butthole, fluff for the soul, fur pauldrons, kind of, until it's totally not, what even are these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinitelyStupid/pseuds/InfinitelyStupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reunion fic for Cullen and f!Hawke set in Skyhold.</p><p> Varric steps forward with a less-than-desirable solution to the Inquisitions problems. Cullen has spent all year trying to keep Hawke safe by keeping her away, and suddenly Varric has her sequestered away on top of the walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miniature Disasters

“So. This is where it all begins.” 

“No,” came a voice at his elbow. “It began in the courtyard. Here is where we take the idea and turn it into a reality.” 

Cullen cast an appraising eye over the ruined hall, taking note of the collapsed ceiling and broken buttresses, the patchy walls and thick dusty cobwebs that had settled in every available nook. And in the middle of it all? A throne of humble design, seemingly untouched and unfaded by the relentless march of time. The wood was still a lustrous silky red under a thick layer of dust, not a nick or splinter in sight. 

He could see Josephine, quill in hand and already taking notes on who would be called in to repair what, Leliana at her shoulder giving suggestions for dwarven stonemasons and carpenters who owed her some favour or another. The Inquisitor was busy picking her way through the rubble to inspect a tattered tapestry that clung to the wall by a literal – yet surprisingly hardy – thread. He puffed out a quiet breath and barely resisted scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair. 

“Maker, this will take some work.” The Inquisitor smiled over at him - a wry twist or her lips that was both so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet _wrong_ on her foreign features – and trailed her nimble fingers over the detailed stitching on the wall hanging. 

“But it will be worth it, don’t you think? This place is old… _very_ old. Solas told me some about it, but I never thought it would feel so alive.” Her fingers spread delicately against the stone wall and twitched, her face lowered in a thoughtful frown. “There is magic here. In these walls. It’s amazing, I never thought I’d ever feel the touch of true _elvhen_ magic…” 

It was not a thought that was particularly comforting for Cullen, but he held his silence. 

“Now that we have a base of operations, I believe it would be prudent to discuss the matter at hand.” Josephine pulled a new sheet of parchment to the front of her stack and held her quill poised atop it. 

“I agree. We can’t afford to fall into a false sense of security just because we have four walls again. Corypheus is still out there with whatever army he has left, and we have no idea where he is or what his plans are.” Leliana stepped forward. 

“We know his next move. In the future that Lavellan saw, Grand Enchanter Fiona mentioned that Empress Celine was assassinated.” 

“If Corypheus manages to gain control of Orlais, Thedas will fall - he won’t need to be a god for that to happen.” Cullen brought a hand to the back of his neck, struggling with the decision he’d been trying to make since their entirely too narrow escape from Haven. Maybe there was a way to do this that didn’t require a full commitment towards either course of action? With a flicker of hope warming his chest, he steeled himself and took a breath. 

“We don’t know anything about this magister, but I have a…friend who may be able to shed some light on him.” All three women turned to stare at him with varying degrees of surprise and no small amount of suspicion on Leliana’s part. 

“And you did not mention this before because…” his face felt hot under her piercing stare and mild tone. This woman was a spymaster for a _reason_ , and he once again found himself floundering at the fact she had lived a cloistered life for many years when faced with her shrewdness. 

“Because she dropped off the map around a month ago, for one. And because I didn’t want her involved with the Inquisition. _But_ -” he held up his hands in a placating gesture as Leliana’s eyebrows crept steadily towards her hairline, “- a letter wouldn’t do much harm to pass along information. I’m afraid we’d have to re-establish contact though,” his brow lowered fractionally. Leliana hummed in consideration. 

“If your _friend_ has anything useful to add then I’m not sure a letter is even safe. That information would be highly sensitive, and if it fell into enemy hands then any of our plans would be for naught.” Cullen felt his hands tighten reflexively on the pommel at his hip, but he gently relaxed in an effort to keep his rising ire in check. 

“It’s a letter or nothing, Leliana. I have not spent the past year keeping her as far away as possible, only now to pull her into the epicentre of it all when _it is completely unnecessary-_ “ 

“Huh. Guess you and I are on the same wavelength there, Curly. Or, at least somewhere nearby,” Varric strode in from the courtyard and nervously eyed Cullen’s slightly-less-than composed appearance. Something in the dwarf’s posture had him on guard. Cullen narrowed his eyes in thought and tried to figure out just what was setting off his internal warning system. Varric looked almost…contrite? 

“Varric,” Lavellan smiled warmly and brushed aside a pale strand of hair, ignoring the tension between her advisors. “You have something to add?” He nodded and looked to her, carefully avoiding Cullen’s eye behind his usual swagger and crooked grin. 

“Like the commander said, we have a mutual friend who’s crossed paths with Corypheus before. I got into contact with her a couple of days after Haven when I realised just what the hell we were dealing with.” Haven. Almost a month ago. He tried to ignore every nerve in his body screaming at him: _This is not a coincidence._

“Varric-“ the dwarf ignored the warning undertone in his voice. 

“She can help us. Or, at least, she wants to help as much as she can-“ 

“Varric, _what have you done?_ ” The warning undertone was gone. Cullen’s shoulders were stiff and his voice was deathly calm. Varric finally met the other man’s gaze and almost recoiled at the rage he saw there, carefully wiped from his face but swirling in his eyes. 

“Now, Curly, you _know_ how the boss is when she gets an idea in her head. You really think I could’ve stopped her?” He held out his hands pleadingly. 

“And who put the idea in her stubborn skull in the first place?!” Varric shrank a little and turned back to Lavellan who was watching the whole scene with naked curiosity. 

“Look, it’s out of my hands now. If you want her help then it’s going to have to be a private sort of affair. I guess you could say she’s…ah, not very low profile.” Josephine recovered quickly and began scribbling at the bottom of her agenda. 

“Yes, of course we can arrange for a private meeting outside of Skyhold when your friend arrives.” 

“Actually Ruffles, I wouldn’t worry about that.” He cast a sidelong glance at the quietly fuming Cullen. “Inquisitor, just, uh, head up to the battlements when you’re ready to talk.” It took a moment for Varric’s words to register, but when they did… 

“She’s _here?!”_ Cullen had to hold himself back from throttling the conniving little man and settled for trying to burn through his head with his eyes. Varric smiled weakly. 

“I told ya, Curly, you know better than I do there’s no arguing with her.” Cullen let out a frustrated (and rather impressive) string of curse words as he stalked to the door leading to the courtyard. He ignored the scandalised mumbling behind him and tried to tamp down on his anger. He wasn’t far enough away to miss Varric’s mutter of ‘ _Tevene? Man, he really_ did _spend far too long around Broody’_ but chose to ignore it for now _._ Varric could be dealt with later. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this angry, and when he thought about it he didn’t really. Frustration was at the forefront, pushing him on and away from Varric and Leliana. Ten minutes before, he had been preparing to make a perfect halfway point between two very difficult solutions to an impossible problem. He’d felt rather proud of himself for coming to a conclusion that would align with both the Inquisition’s interests and his own, even if he felt slightly guilty for having such opposing opinions in the first place. An opinion he’d been _agonising_ over for almost a year since Cassandra had practically dragged him out the wreckage of Kirkwall. He was angry with Varric, but more than anything he was frustrated that in the space of five minutes all control he thought he had over the situation had turned to ash and slid through his fingers. 

He thought that maybe he should be used to that idea by now. 

And underneath all that? Underneath he was _scared_ , and he didn’t like admitting it to even himself. He certainly wasn’t going to admit such to Varric of all people. Although perhaps he didn’t have to. 

She had promised him she wouldn’t get involved. A letter would have been fine – no way for her to be in a position to get into the physical side of things, inveigle her way into one or more of the Inquisition’s many, _many_ skirmishes. Because she would. She could never resist a good fight, especially if it lined up with something she held close to her heart, and he knew she not-so-secretly loved the thrill of battle. It was Kirkwall’s second-worst kept secret. 

“I swear to the Maker, if she’s doing this because she’s _bored_ , I will kill her myself,” he muttered, striding down the stairs of the keep and scanning the battlements for a familiar figure. 

There. For as much bluster about private meetings and secrecy, the red armoured woman leaning on the battlements facing the mountains cut a rather obvious and iconic figure. She was hardly _conspicuous_. He sighed. When had she ever been? 

He stomped across the courtyard, ignoring the curious looks he was drawing from his men and taking the steps two at a time. A poor and rather harried looking messenger had to duck into the side to avoid being thrown over the railing in his haste, and Cullen managed to summon up a quick apology in the passing. 

When he finally reached the top of the stairs and the stretch of parapets she leant against, he felt some of the tension drain away. Suddenly a huge weight made itself known as it lifted from his shoulders. Safe. Not dead. Cullen had spent a whole month letting his brain run around in circles as he’d tried to draw up patrol routes and guard rotations – almost every scenario ending in her captured by slavers or dead in some bloody warehouse or run through by a rogue mage or Templar. None had ended in her travelling to the Inquisition of all places. 

Maker he had missed her. Cullen had almost forgotten how her hair looked when it caught the light like this. The bright sunlight turned the dark caramel to polished gold like a halo – and he had to snort a laugh at that thought because _if there_ _was_ _anyone who deserved a halo it wasn’t Hawke_. 

She half turned at the noise, eyes almost absent-mindedly moving across to meet his and then widening. Then she smiled. Not just a small one that she saved for strangers, or the mildly polite one she used when she was mentally punching a frustrating person in the throat as they asked for _yet another favour_. No. She was _radiant_. Her smile was so open and carefree and _joyous_ that he couldn’t help but return it despite the dark emotions that had been stewing from the minute Varric stepped into the hall. 

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” Her voice was warm and light, and her eyes danced at the teasing greeting. Her smile turned into a cheeky grin when she took a step closer, crossing her arms under her chest and cocking a hip. “long time no see.” 

“Hawke.” His voice was hoarse, even to his own ears. His cheeks hurt in a way they had not for many months, and he realised he was grinning harder than he had since Kirkwall. The sound of her smooth voice had helped the rest of his anger leak from his body, and he felt his feet take him a couple of long steps in her direction without thinking. The next thing he knew, she was _there_ , and his nose was full of lavender from the soap he vaguely recalled Bethany had bought for her nameday, but it was pushed to the back of his mind when her arms slipped around his neck and buried in the fur of his pauldrons. His brain caught up with his arms a moment later, and he scooped her up into a tight embrace that carried them around in a few spins right there on the walls of Skyhold. 

He looked down at the woman in his arms and took in her flushed cheeks, her too-bright eyes, the dimple on her right cheek, and couldn’t help the laugh that built deep in his chest. He gathered her closer and buried his nose in the crook of her neck, revelling in the simple facts that _she is here_ and _she is safe_ and _I am not alone_ , none of which had been pleasant points of thought before now. 

“You’re really here,” he said in wonder, and she pulled back far enough to cup his cheek in one calloused hand and grin at him. 

“No, this is one incredibly detailed wet dream. You’ll wake up in about thirty seconds.” He didn’t even acknowledge the blush, but it was what she was going for and laughed quietly at his pink cheeks. 

“Well then,” he gripped her waist tighter and didn’t miss the slight shiver that passed through her frame. “better make it a good one.” 

It wasn’t the best kiss they’d ever shared, too much teeth and giggling and fumbling, but the familiarity was still there even after a year apart and the pure joy and relief of reunion made giddy teenagers of the two. When they finally broke apart, she laughed breathlessly and leant in to press her forehead gently to his. 

“Andraste’s tits, I have missed you Cullen.” 

“And I you,” he leant back slightly to throw her an accusing glare. “You went missing for a month, Marian! Why didn’t you write me?” Her lips tilted up in that grin again, her right eyebrow arched in the perfect ‘I’m about to sass you, and you’ll like it’ position. 

“You would have turned into grumpy Knight-Captain Cullen and tried to stop me, full well knowing you couldn’t, and then spent the entire time it took for me to get here storming about with a cloud and being pissy. Plus,” she added, ignoring his unimpressed glare to stretch up and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isn’t this surprise much nicer?” 

“Well I suppose it’s a nicer surprise than the lizards Sera managed to coax into my tent last week.” She paused at that, then the grin was back in full force. 

“That so? Sounds like my type of girl, think you can introduce us?” He rolled his eyes. 

“I think you’re enough of a menace as it is, Hawke.” She pouted and trailed her fingers lightly across the back of his neck. He did _not_ shiver. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve got my conscience back then. You wouldn’t _believe_ the stuff I got up to with Fenris and Isabela without a voice of reason. Then again, my conscience was in the arse end of Thedas starting a Chantry rebellion, so maybe I need to hold auditions for a new one.” She tilted her head coyly. “You’re not the good influence you think you are, dear.” 

“Maker, do you ever shut up?” he asked in fond exasperation, and there was a familiar gleam in her eye. 

“Make me.” So he did. 

It was gentler this time, a sweet pressure that felt like coming home. One of her hands scratched lightly at the day old stubble on his cheek and the other tangled with his own in a gentle grip. He hadn’t forgotten how perfectly they fit, but was rather enjoying the reminder. When he pulled away, it was only enough to talk and his lips brushed hers lightly with each movement. 

“I’m still mad at you.” 

“You’re mad at me? You ran off to join an army at the other end of Thedas and left me with _Fenris. Fenris,_ Cullen. I don’t believe I’ll ever go back to being the sweet, non-abrasive, unjaded girl I was before.” 

“Funny, I didn’t think you could get any more abrasive.” He dodged a half-hearted punch with a laugh. 

“Well I suppose I’ll just be able to keep up with your brooding now, won’t I, Mr. Stormcloud? I swear those lines in your forehead are twice as deep since I saw you last.” 

“And I never had any at all before you threw yourself into my life,” He had to duck another well aimed fist and grabbed the offending wrist, holding her arm away from his face and laughing freely at her pout. “You see? Is that any way to act during a reunion? Abrasive as they come, I swear.” 

“Well of course you have wrinkles now, it’s only been twelve years.” 

“Twelve lovely, lovely years of trying not to die by whatever you’d pissed off that week. Yes, I wonder why I have frown lines?” 

“Yes, well let’s leave diplomacy to the lords and ladies of Alistair’s court, shall we? I’ve always found actions speak louder than fluttering a fan around and giggling.” 

“You should have tried the fan with the Arishok. If your version of diplomacy ended up with you stuck on the end of a bloody big greatsword, I’d love to see how he’d respond to you twittering about like a courtesan. Actually,” he pondered, “do you think that’s how the Viscount’s head ended up at the bottom of Hightown?” 

“Probably. He was insufferable. Merrill actually suggested I should’ve rode his around like a bull until he tired himself out or concussed himself trying to buck me off. But then she went on to tell me I should throw a ball for all the bandits in Lowtown to ‘show I’m actually really very nice and maybe they could stop attacking me please?’, so I’m not sure how much of her ideas I can take on.” Cullen shook his head fondly at the thought of their quirky friend. 

“Is she still helping the alienage?” Hawke shook her head and leant on the parapets again, but facing him this time. He moved to stand beside her, shoulders and wrists bumping fondly. 

“Isabella gave the both of us passage to Fereldan. She said she wanted to go to the ruins in the Brecillian Forest to look for more mirror shards.” She sighed, and he squeezed her hand. Merrill was sweet, but her life choices left much to be desired and she wasn’t exactly…sensible. 

“Merrill knows how to handle herself, Marian. She’ll be fine. Plus, I heard the Dalish are back in that neck of the woods, so she might run across them too. She’ll be safe.” 

“He’s right, Daisy’s a force of nature, she even scares me when she gets all red and glowy. Almost as bad as when Blondie gets all blue and glowy. Or when Broody gets all silver and glowy. Huh.” Varric scratched his chin. “Did you ever notice our little group of friends make the perfect lightshow?” he cut Cullen a sideways glance. “You don’t glow too, do you?” 

Cullen glowered and crossed his arms firmly across his chest. 

“You’re not off the hook yet either, dwarf.” Varric looked up from where he’d been returning Hawke’s rather enthusiastic hug – and Cullen _did_ feel a small twinge of sympathy at the way Hawke appeared to be trying to strangle him – and rolled his eyes. 

“Seriously, you even sound like him now. Just how close are you and Broody, exactly?” before he could answer, Hawke jumped in with a mischievous smile. 

“Oh, they send letters all the time! Sometimes Fenris would get one twice the length of mine because they were going over some stupid back and forth from three years ago about the colour of Fenris’s armour or something. If I didn’t know any better and Anders hadn’t been suspiciously interested in bunking with Fenris on the ship, I would’ve thought something was going on. Plus,” she added, Cullen’s jaw still flapping from _that_ little bombshell, “when we were all together, Fenris was _way_ too tightly wound to be getting any.” 

“ _Marian._ ” 

“Not that I would mind, per-se, can you imagine the show? I wonder if Fenris’s tattoos would _glow_.” She leered at him, watching his face flush crimson to his hairline and beyond. 

“I wouldn’t know, and neither should you!” he managed in a strangled voice and buried his warm face in his hands. Varric heard something that sounded suspiciously like _and I don’t want to know it Anders does either_. She giggled and sighed. 

“I’d almost forgotten how easy that was,” her voice was wistful, and she laughed again when he batted away the finger prodding at his flushed cheeks. He turned his eyes beseechingly at the sky. 

“Why wasn’t it the _other_ sister?” he sighed dramatically. “No, it had to be the one who _letches_ after her…mostly straight friends.” 

“Oh, hush you. You’re worse than me when it comes to matchmaking.” 

“Like when?” 

“Don’t even get me started on the whole thing with Isabela and Sebastian.” He looked horrified. 

“That- I was joking when I mentioned that! It actually happened? Oh dear lord think of the children!” 

“I think that’s exactly what they were doing when Isabela busted down the door to the clinic and demanded Anders hand over his whole stock of contraceptive tea.” Her mild tone was drowned out by Cullen’s choked laughter. 

“How did I manage through this year without you to give me the latest far too personal news on all our friends?” she looked affronted. 

“That’s all you missed?” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“Well, I’m sure there are some things I’ve missed…might take me a moment though, they’re currently being overshadowed by the need to bleach my brain and ears.” He yelped. “Woman, why must you always insist on violence? Being friends with the Viscount doesn’t make you exempt from law, you know. I’ll have you know I’ve got some friends in high places too now,” he grinned at her. “maybe they’ll let me put you in the stocks.” 

“You sound a little eager there dear, some fantasy I’ve yet to uncover?” he sputtered helplessly for a few moments as Varric laughed uproariously and slapped Hawke on the back. 

“Damn Hawke, it’s been too quiet without you!” 

“Yes,” cut in a new voice, and Cullen’s blush returned tenfold with the realisation that they’d had an audience. When he realised _who_ it was, he wanted to melt into a puddle and seep through the cracks in the stonework. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the commander change colour so quickly before. You’ll be fun to have around, I can tell already.” Lavellan’s impish smile was returned tenfold with an outstretched hand of greeting from Hawke. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan I assume?” the woman dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Varric and Cullen here. Two dragons, eh? Wish I’d been there,” Hawkes voice was wistful, and Varric nudged her. 

“I think one was quite enough for us, Hawke. The buckles on my boots got fused to the leather last time and I had to cut myself out of them.” 

“Shit, yeah! I forgot about that,” she sniggered. “Anders lost all the feathers on her robes and half his hair.” She turned back to Lavellan. “Well, anyway, I’m Marian Hawke. Lovely to meet you.” She gave her best charming smile which Lavellan returned. 

“Welcome to Skyhold, Messere Hawke. Would you like a tour? We’re just getting set up, but I can show some of our…er, safer areas?” Hawke quickly shook her head and took a step back, grinning apologetically and tapping her knuckles to Cullen’s shoulder. 

“No, no, but thank you. I’m supposed to be staying under the grid for a while, I just got sidetracked catching up with your commander here.” Cullen stepped away from the light punch out of reflex and grabbed her hand instead, bringing it down to their sides where they intertwined. 

“Again with the fists! Honestly,” he scolded good naturedly, “more times today than I would have put up with in a week before. Why do I put up with you again?” 

“Because you’re a chivalrous sort who wouldn’t put me out on my arse for a teeny tiny bad habit?” she smiled smugly at his eye roll and took it as acquiescence. 

“Oh yes Josie, our Commander is certainly a gentlemen. Wouldn’t you say so, Leliana?” 

“I’m not so sure, a couple of guardsmen have attested to a less than gentlemanly show the got up here not half an hour ago.” Cullen tried not curse as he jumped around to face the two women leaning against the battlements above them and watching like a couple of oversized hawks. He considered their words for a moment, and a horrified blush erupted across the back of his neck. _Maker._ He’d forgotten about the soldiers patrolling right past them on the walls. 

His fellow advisors were tittering to themselves like schoolgirls at his obvious embarrassment and Hawke’s less than abashed smile. Maker, she looked practically _proud_. 

“Well, it was a very good show.” And there it was, her penchant for making things worse completely on purpose. 

“I should bloody well think so,” he muttered darkly, but smiled a little at her bravado. 

“Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Leliana and this is Lady Josephine Montilyet. I am the spymaster for this organisation, whereas Josie here is our resident diplomat and ambassador.” 

“Marian Hawke, pleased to meet you.” 

“Yes, I had suspected as much when both Varric _and_ the commander had a mysterious friend who might be able to help. _Friend_ was perhaps…a deliberate understatement.” Leliana’s eyes flicked slyly to Cullen’s with a smirk. “Varric, you may wish to avoid the Lady Seeker for the next few months.” Varric paled and the inquisitor cut in smoothly. 

“Actually I’m planning on taking you and Cassandra to the Emerald Graves next week and I refuse to spend another two weeks guarding your tent. It was bad enough the first time. Better put on your big boy pants and face her like the dwarf you are,” her genial tone was lost on Varric, who continued to look like he was heading for the noose. 

“Don’t die, Varric, I might need you for my sequel,” Hawke grinned and winked at the dwarf, who managed a shadow of his smirk. Lavellan perked up suddenly. 

“Oh, the Tale of the Champion? I’ve just finished reading it actually, but I didn’t see any mention of Cullen. I hadn’t actually realised you two were even friends until today,” Varric and Hawke looked at each other for a long moment with glittering eyes, and promptly burst into laughter. Lavellan looked thoroughly backfooted. 

“I’m…sorry?” Hawke quickly waved her apology away and put a hand over Cullen’s mouth as he tried to explain that _there was a reason for that-_

“Cullen is most definitely in the book. A lot. I guess you could say he’s…ah, a real _straight shooter_ in it. There’s a fair bit of hero _worship_ about him, I mean he’s practically _royalty_ among the characters.” By this point Varric wasn’t even trying to hide the chuckles that were turning into full blown bellyaching laughs, and Hawke tried her best to keep a straight face. Cullen’s frown had gradually grown deeper at Hawke’s nonsense. 

“Hawke, what are you-“ 

“I mean _Andraste herself couldn’t have blessed someone better for the role._ ” 

“…No. _No._ Varric you did not do what I think she’s talking about.” Varric shrugged helplessly. 

“So…should I start calling you Brother Cullen, or Your Majesty? What’s better? You know, I can’t really see him as an outcast prince, I don’t think he’s wild enough for that yet.” Varric nodded along thoughtfully to Hawke’s ponderings, while the advisors and inquisitor merely looked…absolutely clueless. 

“I cannot believe you wrote me in as Sebastian Vale!” there was a brief pause while Hawke and Varric took in Cullen’s positively petulant pout and big sad eyes. They burst into uproarious laughter again and Cullen only looked more injured. 

“Cullen,” Hawke managed to catch her breath along with his arm which she used to support her shuddering frame. “Look, it was that or we missed _all_ your juicy adventures. This way, your story gets told, and Sebastian gets a load of credit for stuff he never did. Win-win, see?” Cullen was still frowned. 

“Varric, you better have not written anything…personal in there about me. Or Sebastian. Or what Sebastian got up to _behind closed doors_.” Varric smirked. 

“You’ll just have to read it, Curly.” 

“I’m already mad at you Varric. Don’t make it worse.” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lavellan finally interrupted them in consternation. “ _Why_ was the commander written in as Sebastian Vale?” 

“Because he was a Templar.” Hawke’s unspoken _duh_ was slightly immature, but really. It was obvious. 

“Right…” she sighed. 

“Because he did a whole lot of shit with us that Meredith would’ve skinned him alive for. Such as cavorting with a blood mage, a righteous abomination, an escaped slave, a pirate, a dwarf spymaster, the captain of the guard who refused to submit control to the Templars, and me. Ooh boy, did Meredith hate me,” she chuckled darkly. “Not to mention the number of mages we helped escape from the Circle, or the number of times Cullen had to point the Templars in the other direction from the clinic, or the fact that he eventually ended up wrestling Meredith off her lyrium throne in the end. There were a lot of things that could go wrong if anyone in the chain of command found out a _Knight Captain_ was doing all sorts of things that would make most Templars’ hair curl.” She paused and glanced over at Cullen’s sleeker than usual hair with a small grin. “Well. More than usual anyway.” 

“So this way, we’ve got all the good bits Curly brought with him when he ditched that metal tin his order like to rattle about in and swapped it for something less recognisable – and Curly doesn’t get sent to Aeonar.” Varric shrugged with a smile. And Cullen gave him a sidelook. 

“Ye-es, Aeonar would be bad. It would also be bad if everyone thought Sebastian Vale was spending less time with that Andraste buckle around Hawke. Very bad. Extremely very bad.” Hawke only laughed and pressed a kiss to his rough cheek at his disgruntled expression. 

“Oh stop your fretting. I made sure there was nothing about my personal life in the book, alright?” Cullen did look slightly mollified at that, and smiled down at Hawke. 

“Yes, alright, fine. But don’t think I’m happy about Vale taking credit for my daring rescues!” 

“Don’t worry dear, we won’t make you wear Andraste’s face over your crotch.” She patted his arm sympathetically and ignored his strangled exclamation then turned thoughtfully to Lavellan. “Or…should it be your face? According to scuttlebutt, you and Andraste are one and the same nowadays.” 

Lavellan tried very hard not to look appalled, she really did. 

“Uh-no, no that won’t be necessary.” Hawke shrugged in agreement. 

“Yes, I suppose it would be quite insulting for someone to use your face so they didn’t have sex, wouldn’t it?” 

“Hawke,” Cullen’s face was scarlet again. “Please…stop.” Varric couldn’t tell if the slight trembling to Cullen’s body was supressed laughter or an urge to start crying. Varric commiserated with him. After a few moments, Josephine finally managed to clear her throat a couple of times and speak. 

“My, well you certainly know how to make a strong first impression, don’t you?” she chuckled nervously, but her fascinated gaze hadn’t left the conversation the whole time and Cullen had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t as pure minded as she led others to believe. 

“I like to keep people on the back foot. Makes things a hell of a lot more fun in the long run.” Hawke shrugged with an unrepentant smile on her lips. Cullen secretly loved that smile, even if he has learned that what usually follows it is a mess he’ll be cleaning for weeks. Hawke spun to face the Inquisitor and smiled warmly. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, you know how reunions are. I believe we have some business to discuss?” If Lavellan was startled by the sudden change in demeanour then Cullen decided she must have an excellent poker face. She merely nodded and held out an arm in the direction of a tower yet to be renovated. 

“Of course, we’ll have some privacy in here if you would prefer.” Hawke nodded and turned back to Cullen before giving him the most lascivious once over he’d received in years. Her eyes trailed fire down his body, and she winked at him with the most inviting smile he’s seen in… _Maker,_ far too long. Then he wasn’t thinking much of anything because _Hawke. Hawke and kissing. Hawke’s lips._ He realised halfway through that Hawke had just planted one on him very publically and very much in front of the Inquisition’s inner circle. And he isn’t doing anything to stop it. On some level, he thinks that he probably stopped giving a shit when he thought she was dead. _Really he just doesn’t want to stop this._ But eventually she pulled away. 

“I’ll see you in an hour or so, Knight Captain. Best not be late.” Her voice was pure innuendo, and he couldn’t believe she was doing this right in front of his colleagues, in front of _The Inquisitor_ , his skin feeling too tight but _not caring_ at the same time… and then with a cheeky salute she was bouncing away behind Lavellan like it had been a casual handshake kind of parting between friends. 

He was left staring after her in a slightly dazed manner, trying to remember back to the moment this intense whirlwind had become _his life_. 

“Did all of that really just happen?” Even he heard the slightly high tone of his voice, quickly cleared his throat a couple of times and dragged his eyes away from Hawke’s retreating form. Varric’s lips were twitching in a badly hidden smile. Leliana very nearly skipped forwards with Josephine and in seconds they had flanked him. One on either side, they slid an arm through the frozen commander’s and began to lead him like cattle back towards the main hall. 

“It most certainly did, commander, and now you are going to tell us _everything_. You’ve been keeping quite the secret under all that tacky fur, haven’t you?” 

Varric grinned smugly and watched the man be led off with a formidable woman either side of him like a man heading for the executioner’s block. In a couple of hours he would have a furious ex-Templar and a truly terrifying Seeker of Truth baying for his blood – right now however, he could bask in the fact that he was not the one suffering a gruelling interrogation this time. Now to go find some spare parchment and a cosy nook to hide in while he recorded “Sebastian” and Hawke’s heart-warming reunion. 

He had a sequel to write, after all. 


End file.
